


Falling’s Just Like Flying...

by sudipal



Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cabinlock, Gen, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 06:46:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sudipal/pseuds/sudipal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Falling’s just like flying, except there’s a more permanent destination.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling’s Just Like Flying...

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own neither Sherlock or Cabin Pressure nor any of its characters. All rights belong to their respective owners.

_“Falling’s just like flying, except there’s a more permanent destination.”_

He remembered whenever he closed his eyes. One moment everything felt solid, and, in the next, the world crumbled away from beneath his feet. He had risen above himself, foolishly contending with the gods, reaching out for something he was never meant to grasp. He constructed a lofty tower in order to ascend to greatness, but the gods were angered by his arrogance, and struck out against him. And so he fell... Down, down, down. The wind stretching past him, creating a sensation of floating, of soaring, his coat flapping around him as though he had wings.

But he was not so easily defeated. He could save himself still, fix everything. He would travel the globe and take down the rest of Moriarty’s syndicate one by one, however long it took. Virtually cut off from any funds, it was beneficial that he had already trained his body not to need many luxuries, like food or sleep. It didn’t matter to him. Only one thing did.

He would defy Moriarty, defy them all. Yes, he had fallen, but now he would fly.

“Martin?” a now familiar voice asked, shaking him from his thoughts.

“Yes, Douglas?” he replied.

“You spaced out there for a moment,” Douglas explained. “Might I inquire what astoundingly break-through piece of existential truth Sir was so recently pondering over?”

“Oh, just flying...” He shrugged.

“Riveting,” Douglas said dryly, before turning back to the treasures spread out on the cheese tray.


End file.
